


Respite

by medusine



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Porn, Canon Era, Chronic Pain, Disability, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Massage, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-05 03:12:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17910911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/medusine/pseuds/medusine
Summary: Silver's body is protesting after a long day's work, but Flint is keen to help him find some relief from the pain.





	Respite

Silver's body was screaming.

He'd spent most of the afternoon ignoring the twinges in his lower back, the knots along his spine, the burning flares that shot up between his shoulder-blades. And that was quite aside from the perpetual ache in his thighs and the numbness where the boot squeezed his stump.

He hobbled into the Captain's cabin as the sun began to set; Flint was sitting at his desk and looked up sharply when Silver clattered in, choking down a moan when the boot caught on the doorstep.

“Long day?” Flint asked, as though he hadn't actually grimaced briefly when he'd seen the state Silver was in.

“Fucking long,” Silver managed to choke out, gingerly picking his way through the room. He meant to get to the small ledge by the window that was now his bed, but barely made it a few steps before his back seized and his good leg crumpled under him.

Flint was beside him within moments, pulling Silver's arm around his neck, hugging Silver's waist to hoist him upright. A few more steps – a torture – and Flint was helping Silver onto his hanging cot. It was softer and wider than Silver's, and so incredibly welcome that tears pricked Silver's eyes.

“You're overdoing it again.” Flint's voice was soft, without a trace of judgement or even chiding.

“I'm doing my job.” Now that the weight was off his legs, Silver's exhausted muscles decided to start shuddering uncontrollably.

“You're overdoing it,” Flint repeated, running a warm hand down Silver's back; the shudders his touch elicited weren't entirely unpleasant. “Some might say you're trying to impress a certain Maroon princess.”

“That's also part of my fucking job,” Silver grumbled.

“If you say so.” Flint gently squeezed Silver's shoulder and Silver almost whined. “Should I leave you to it?”

 _Fuck no_ , Silver wanted to cry out. He wanted to grab Flint's hand, pull him down on the bed, revel in his warmth. But the words died in his throat. They weren't this close. They'd been dancing around each other ever since they'd met, coming closer and closer without ever quite connecting, as though they both knew that any intimacy between them would consume them like a wildfire.

Yet Silver craved it. Sometimes he even wondered if his body screaming at him wasn't simply screaming for Flint, for his touch, his heat, his all-encompassing presence. Silver had felt it the night he'd killed Dufresne, felt the inexorable draw between them tightening like a rope. They'd been so close to giving in to it that Silver had nearly been able to taste Flint's lips and skin and sweat.

But all there had been that night was coiling tension and the sound of breath between them. Flint had moved away before either of them had pushed things further, leaving Silver both crushed and relieved. Silver didn't understand it, it was insanity, and yet…

“I don't mind if you stay,” Silver said, as coolly as he could muster.

Flint's hands were still rubbing Silver's shoulders, squeezing life and sensation back into them, drawing out the tension. How Flint's touch managed to be at once firm and soft was a mystery to Silver, but then everything about Flint was a fucking mystery. Silver let out a long sigh and rolled onto his stomach, burying his face in the pillow.

“Does this help?” Flint asked, clever fingers kneading along the top of Silver's shoulders.

“Yeah,” Silver ground out as pain burst under Flint's touch and then ebbed away, leaving only heat behind.

Flint's hands ran heavily all the way up and down Silver's back, soothing away some of the tension. Then Flint tugged at the bottom of Silver's shirt. “Take it off, it you want me to do this right.”

Silver gave a shaky laugh at Flint's quietly commanding tone, and reached out to pull his shirt off. His back didn't appreciate the twisting movement, rewarding him with needling cramps all through his shoulders. But then Flint's hands were on his skin, hot and callused and strong, and Silver flung off his shirt with a choked-down grunt.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Silver grit his teeth, breathing raggedly through the ache and release that followed Flint's fingers as they dug into his flesh. There had been the tinkle of a bottle of oil while Silver had been trying to undress, and sure enough, Flint's fingers were slick, sliding easily over Silver's skin.

Slowly, the world fell away until only the pressure of Flint's hands on Silver's body remained. Silver buried his face further into Flint's pillow, breathing in his scent, pressing down into the bed's thin mattress. Tears had started to run down his face under Flint's insistent massage, released every time Silver let out a long, sobbing breath of relief.

Although Silver's body was still sore, the tension started running out of it. Whichever part of him Flint had handled felt as though it had turned to molten gold, glowing with warmth from the inside out. Still sniffling, Silver hugged the pillow and squeezed his eyes shut, allowing himself to float in this temporary oblivion.

Flint's hands moved down Silver's back, thumbs pressing into his spine, teasing knots apart. But Flint stopped short of the small of Silver's back. Silver, who'd been anticipating the relief he sorely needed in his lower back, let out a muffled whine and turned to look at Flint.

“Is this all right?” Flint's voice was practically shy, his gaze both intense and guarded.

It was only then that it struck Silver how deeply intimate this was, and how much more intimate it might become still. They were closer than ever to a point of no return. Did Flint feel this too? The way his fingers lingered on the small of Silver's back, the slight trembling of his lip, and the colour in his cheeks suggested that he did.

“Please,” Silver whispered into the quiet room.

Flint's eyes seemed to darken, but he simply nodded. Neither of them moved.

Silver reached between his belly and the mattress and unfastened his belt, dropping it off the side of the cot before unbuttoning his breeches. Flint's fingers burned in the small of his back, practically vibrating against Silver's skin. Then Silver slipped his hands into the band of his trousers and tugged them most of the way down his hips. The silence in the room grew hot and thick.

Then Flint was back at work, kneading his way along into the twitching, exhausted muscles of Silver's arse. Flint's touch was delightfully painful when he pressed down into the knots along Silver's hips, drawing out the tension, making Silver whine softly. Silver's hips writhed against the soft sheets, welcoming Flint's touch and shying away from it in turn.

It wasn't long before Silver's treacherous body started to stir. Silver had known it would come to this. He'd known that the heat of Flint's hands on his arse, the luxurious slide of oiled palms on his flesh, the squeeze and release of his tense muscles, would cause his cock to grow full and heavy. Had Flint guessed it too? Silver glanced at him briefly and found him deeply concentrated over his handiwork, nostrils flaring, his face and throat still flushed.

Silver wrapped his arms around the pillow and bit down a moan as Flint's fingers found a spot at the bottom of Silver's spine that sent sparks up his back. He pressed his hardening cock down into the mattress, aware that the rub of the linen would do nothing to improve the situation. As it was, he could barely hold back from bucking forward under Flint's touch.

This couldn't go on. Flint kneaded Silver's arse, untying knots that felt as though they'd been there for decades, and Silver knew that it wouldn't be long until he left evidence of his arousal on Flint's sheets. One way or another, he was going to be embarrassed. With that in mind, he took a deep breath and turned his face a fraction away from the pillow.

“Captain,” Silver managed to breathe. Flint's hands stilled, weighing down either side of Silver's hips. Christ, they felt good. They robbed Silver of all rational thought.

“Yeah?” Flint said into the silence.

“I find myself in a predicament,” Silver said slowly, face still half covered in the pillow.

When Silver said nothing more, Flint spoke. “How so?”

“I'm, uh… this is arousing me.”

For what felt like forever, Flint said nothing. His hands still rested heavily on Silver's hips. “Should I stop?” he asked, voice low and thick.

“Well, either that or I'll make a mess of your bed.”

Flint's hands squeezed Silver's flesh a little harder, sending a shudder coursing up his spine. “I don't mind that. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to keep touching me.” The words rushed out of Silver's mouth before he could stop himself. “If… if that's what you want too.”

Flint made a soft, choked sound at the back of his throat. Then his thumbs started rubbing circles deep in the flesh above Silver's arse. Silver did his best not to moan, not to squirm against Flint's fingers, not to rut into the mattress.

“You're so fucking good at this,” Silver babbled as Flint worked his arse with his palms. “I mean I should have guessed you'd be good at anything you set your mind to, but fuck, Captain…” He took a trembling breath, keenly aware of his cock nestled between the sheets and his stomach, tugged back and forth with Flint's every movement.

Flint pushed Silver's trousers down his legs, worked them over his foot; Silver heard the rustle of their fabric as they hit the floor. Then Flint's thumbs dug into the inside of Silver's thighs and Silver moaned aloud in a mixture of pleasure and pain. Fuck, there were knots there too, sharp and angry, throbbing under Flint's fingers. But the pain slowly ebbed away under the heat of Flint's hands, leaving Silver breathless and shuddering and harder than ever.

“Not to repeat myself,” Silver gasped, frantically trying not to rub himself on the mattress as Flint continued teasing knots out of his thighs, “but are you sure you'll all right with this? Cause, uh, if it puts a cramp in our relationship–”

“It won't,” Flint said softly, his thumbs ghosting over the cleft of Silver's arse for a brief moment before returning to kneading his lower back.

“You're being so quiet, though,” Silver said. He didn't dare turn around to see Flint's face. What if there was disgust there? Or pity?

“I'm just… I'm enjoying this.” Flint started firmly dragging the heels of his palms up Silver's back, sending a vibration all through his core and making his eyes roll up behind his eyelids in utter bliss. “And I'm not very good at talking when I'm focusing on something else.”

Enjoying this. Silver chewed at his lip, hips rocking back and forth with the movement of Flint's hands, breath coming in staccato gasps. “You mean it's arousing you too?”

Flint gave a chuckle, warm, a little dirty. “Why the fuck do you think I need to focus?”

Lust snaked into Silver's gut, hot and urgent, coiling into his belly. Flint's hands moved down to his arse again, and Silver pushed back into his touch now.

“You know, I've found that getting fucked sometimes relieves my pain for a while,” Silver said in his most innocent voice.

“I won't ask how you found that out,” Flint replied, and this time his thumbs both slid into the cleft of Silver's arse, tips brushing ever so lightly over his hole and making his cock twitch.

“Probably wise,” Silver muttered. The thought of those times in the galley with Muldoon were better tucked away in a corner of his mind, at least until the ache of Muldoon's loss subsided.

The memories thankfully left his mind when Flint pulled himself onto the hanging cot and stretched over Silver's prone body. Silver felt the tickle of Flint's loose shirt on his back, the heat of his breath against the nape of his neck, and the hard bulge in Flint's breeches pressing against his arse. A savage sense of victory stole over Silver. Flint wanted him. He'd spent weeks agonizing over it, wondering if he'd misread all the moments, the heavy silences, the meaningful glances. He hadn't, thank fucking god.

“Aren't you afraid it might put a cramp in our relationship if I fuck you?” Flint purred into Silver's ear.

Silver nearly moaned aloud just from hearing those words. His body felt more alive than it had ever been, trembling, throbbing, tense with want, but Silver lay as still as he could. He was so aroused that one move might well push him over the edge.

“It'll put a cramp in our relationship if you don't,” Silver bit out, voice sharper than he intended it to be.

Flint laughed softly and pressed his lips to the back of Silver's neck before drawing himself up again. His hands kneaded a path all the way down Silver's back, and ran over Silver's arse again. Then they were gone, and Silver heard fabric shuffling and falling to the ground – Flint's shirt, most likely. Then there was a clink, followed by a clatter – his belt.

Silver glanced back briefly to watch Flint kneeling shirtless behind him, working his breeches open. Fuck, he was beautiful. Sinewy, still gaunt from weeks of starvation, but also strong. Flint looked up at him, his eyes an unfathomable ocean – stormy, dangerous, all-consuming. Silver turned away, pressing his forehead into the pillow and raising his arse expectantly, waiting for Flint to free himself of his breeches.

An oil-slicked finger slid between Silver's buttocks, and Silver heard the desperate sound of his own breath catching in his throat. Flint teased his way around the rim of Silver's hole, rubbing gently but firmly, plying Silver with caresses until he was writhing on the bed, pushing back against Flint's finger. It slipped inside easily, as though Flint's ministrations had worked all the tension out of Silver and prepared him for this very moment.

“More,” Silver grunted.

“I should've known you'd be pushy.” For some reason beyond Silver's understanding, Flint sounded delighted by this. Flint was a little less cautious as he pushed another finger inside; Silver hissed at the sting of being stretched so abruptly.

“This what you wanted?” Flint had the gall to ask, sliding both fingers in and out of Silver slowly, never pushing them far enough to touch that place inside that made Silver squirm.

“It's a start,” Silver breathed, canting his hips in the hopes of getting Flint's fingers to reach deeper into him.

“You're a real fucking taskmaster,” Flint muttered, but there was affection there – or at least Silver let himself believe there was. He had little time to ponder it; Flint pulled his fingers out and Silver whined in frustration. “Sorry, need both hands for this,” came Flint's answer.

Silver glanced back to see Flint kneeling behind him with a vial of oil in one hand, brow crumpled in concentration. His other hand was wrapped around his cock, slicking it up. Silver's body juddered at the sight, lust coursing through him like a thunderbolt. He could barely take his eyes off the flushed head of Flint's cock emerging from his fist, only to be engulfed again into Flint's slick palm.

Flint glanced up at him, his mouth twitching into a not-quite smile. He looked sheepish, nervous, practically small. That wasn't something Silver had ever expected to see. He turned away, wondering what he looked like to Flint. Pitiful and over-eager for attention, most likely.

“All right?” Flint asked, shifting closer.

“Yeah,” was all Silver found to say. He shivered softly at the tickle of coarse hair against the back of his thighs, squirmed with pleasure when Flint's legs rubbed against his, and tilted his hips just so, in case Flint had any doubt as to what Silver wanted from him.

The tip of Flint's cock was hot and slick when it pressed against Silver's hole. Silver steeled himself, breathing deep, waiting for a forceful shove. Instead, Flint pushed inside slowly, the only sign of his impatience a trembling sigh. Silver willed himself to relax as he was stretched open. It felt fucking good; even the burn of taking Flint's cock inside him was closer to pleasure than pain.

The world went still and silent, apart from the waves breaking on the hull. Silver closed his eyes, allowing himself to be nothing more than a body lying on a bed, aching with weariness, smouldering with lust, empty of all worries for one brief moment. Flint had done this. With that thought, Silver's heart swelled, and suddenly he was a body on a bed holding in an ocean of emotion.

“Please,” he whined, suddenly aware that he was feeling everything much too keenly, that his mind was already ruining the relative peace of his body. He needed to forget again. “Please, Captain.”

Flint shifted, wrapping both hands around Silver's hips. He pulled out and pushed back in at a maddeningly slow pace, his breath sharp and trembling in the quiet cabin. Silver did his best to push back against Flint in counterpoint, trying to ignore the way his stump protested when he put the slightest bit of pressure on it. Flint was deep inside him, and Silver hummed when the head of Flint's cock rubbed up against the place that sent exquisite shudders up his spine.

As Flint continued moving in long thorough thrusts, his hands left Silver's hips. They moved along Silver's back again, hot and gentle, teasing their way up his spine, until they finally landed on each of Silver's shoulders. There, Flint put more weight onto Silver, pushing him into the mattress. Silver moaned with delight at the sensation of being held down, eagerly grinding back onto Flint's cock.

The pace picked up now that Flint was properly braced, his thrusts deeper, more powerful. Silver couldn't help the noises he was making, entirely at his Captain's mercy. Flint was driving him into a frenzy, rubbing that special spot with every masterful stroke, as though he wasn't fucking Silver to get himself off, but to make absolutely certain Silver came undone.

It was working; Silver's cock leaked precum with every thrust. He was making a mess of the sheets, and revelled in the decadence of it. Flint bent his head and pressed his mouth to Silver's shoulder. His lips were rough, his beard scratched Silver's skin, and Silver trembled under such a soft touch. Again and again Flint kissed Silver's skin, teased him with his teeth, laved him with his tongue, and all Silver could do was moan with more abandon.

“Are you getting close?” Flint breathlessly asked into Silver's ear. His thrusts came harder now, as though he couldn't quite hold back anymore.

“Are you?” Silver asked, chuckling to cover up how desperate he was to come.

Flint snorted and nibbled at the nape of Silver's neck, drawing another moan out of him. “I asked first.”

“I'm so fucking close, Captain,” Silver whispered. “It feels like I have been for hours.” Silver reached out behind him, grabbing Flint's hips in both his hands to guide him in deeper, faster. “Please, put me out of my misery.”

The position was a strain, and Silver knew he barely had any power over the way Flint moved, but it felt fucking good to hold onto him while they increased the pace. Control slipped away little by little. Flint's thrusts grew faster, sharp and frenzied. Silver's fingers dug into Flint's arse; he buried his face in the pillow as he felt himself break at the seams. One of Flint's hands slid under Silver's belly, finally wrapping around Silver's cock.

With Flint pounding inside him and Flint's hot palm squeezing his cock, Silver let pleasure crash over him. He cried out sharply, his whole body shuddering with pleasure. It seemed to go on forever, spurt after spurt, spreading up through his core until tears blurred his vision and his gasps practically turned to sobs.

Flint hadn't stopped moving, nearly painful in Silver's over-sensitised body. His fingers dug hard into Silver's shoulders and his breath came short and quick. A few more thrusts and Flint gave a harsh gasp; his hips stuttered to a stop. The room turned quiet again but for the sound of their shaky breath. Slowly, Flint let himself collapse over Silver's back.

Silver lay beneath Flint, squashed under his weight but strangely safe in spite of the tears still trickling into the pillow. Flint's breath hissed in Silver's ears at first, then softened and slowed into something nearly serene. Silver didn't want him to get up just yet, didn't want to lose Flint's heat or his weight. For the first time in ages he felt peaceful and numb, and he was loath to let that go just yet.

Flint had other ideas; he soon rolled off the hanging cot. At the sound of Flint's feet touching the ground, Silver turned over and sat up on the bed, mouth open to deliver a quip that never came. Instead there was a lump in his throat, clamping around the words he truly wanted to say. _Don't go, not yet_.

He found himself staring into Flint's eyes. They were gloomy, tormented, even more so when he looked at Silver. Silver became keenly aware that there may still be tears staining his face; his mouth twisted in a grimace. He should have made a joke here, or turned away – anything but sit there naked, staring into Flint's eyes.

But then Flint moved forward, framing Silver's cheeks with shaking fingers, a thumb rubbing against his cheek. They kissed. It was tentative at first, Flint's lips trembling against Silver's, his face twitching nervously. It was barely a touch, in fact, only a brush of lips and breath.

In a desperate effort to hold himself together rather than start weeping, Silver wrapped his arms around Flint's neck, drawing him closer, holding him tight. Flint came willingly, moving forward until their chests pressed together and Silver could twine his good leg around Flint's middle. Flint's arms wound around Silver's waist and they kissed again, passionate this time, gasping into each other's mouths as though they'd been separated for months and had just been reunited.

When they broke apart, Flint's eyes were warmer, his lips quirking into a small smile. Silver pressed kisses to those lips while Flint's hands smoothed their way down Silver's back.

“So, d'you think this'll put a cramp in our relationship?” Flint asked softly against Silver's lips.

“The only cramp I'm going to get is from twisting my back like this,” Silver said. In truth, his back was the least of his concerns at the moment, but it was the best argument he could find for his next request. “Get into bed.”

Never would Silver have guessed that giving his captain an order would be welcomed by a soft chuckle. Never would he have guessed that Flint sliding into the cot beside him and tucking his head into Silver's shoulder, wrapping his arms around him, would bring such a bright glow into the darkness of his life.

Silver clung to Flint, stroking his shorn scalp. Whatever the future brought next, Silver reminded himself to enjoy this moments of respite, and any other his captain decided to grant him.


End file.
